


Twenty

by notjustmom



Series: The Boys in Sussex [21]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Retirement, Sussex, angsty bits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-10 04:21:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12291141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom





	1. Chapter 1

"Mind some company?" Greg asked as John was heading out for a walk with Gertrude.

"Of course not, thought you might be sleeping in today." John grinned at him as they headed down the driveway.

"Yesterday, was - I didn't know -" Greg looked away and shrugged.

"Yeah, it's funny, isn't it?" John watched as Gertrude left the road to chase a rabbit. "Sherlock and I had only just become - we had finally figured it out just before we got married, but having our love celebrated like that - it changed things somehow, he understood I wasn't going anywhere, wouldn't leave him again - and considering our last case... he needed that, I don't know, reassurance? Of course, we have days, I still take his pulse once in a while, when I have a rare nightmare, and he understands. There are times when he comes running in from the pasture in a panic, even though he knows - he still remembers when - of course it's only been a few months - it feels longer than that, I feel like I've loved him forever some days - other days..."

Greg nodded. "It was just yesterday when I met her." They walked in silence for a few minutes before Greg spoke again. "Is it different - I mean, being here, it's just you and him, and Grace of course, but - it's not London, it must get -there must be times when -"

John shook his head. "We couldn't wait to get home after the case. One thing that was good about the case was that it made us realise that even after a couple months, this is where we belong. We have our projects - projects - an odd word. I mean, there are days when all we do is walk Gertrude, then do nothing else but be together, because we can, to have this time... we talk all the time, we are still learning about each other, there's still so much I don't know about him. And I get to see him happy, truly happy, Greg. I think you saw it yesterday, it meant so much to him that we were able to do that for you, that he could offer that to both you and Molly. He loves both of you so much. It took him forever to fall asleep last night, actually it took until two this morning - he finally crashed..."

 

"Morning -" Molly looked up to see a bleary eyed Sherlock walk slowly into the kitchen.

"Seems to be." He grumbled as he fell into a chair next to her.

Grace grinned at him and shook her head. "Hungry?"

"Hmm, yeah, I think so - John and Greg took Gertrude out?"

"A little while ago." Molly rose from her chair and poured out a mug of tea, placed it in front of him, then kissed his hair. "Yesterday was lovely."

Sherlock looked up at her and smiled. "Yeah?"

"It was - it was perfect, Sherlock, it meant so much to both of us - that you would - this place is magic, you do know that, don't you?"

Sherlock blinked and nodded. "I feel it when I'm out there - on Matilda - not ghosts exactly - just time, time passes differently here, I know it's not logical, but yesterday - after the wedding, I went and visited with Emily, just sat for a little while, and I knew she was happy. If life had worked out differently, she and Grace would have - and John and I..." He shrugged and looked up at Grace. "I -"

"No, Sherlock." Grace placed a full plate in front of him and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You and John, you were always meant to be here, Em and I - we had the time we were supposed to have, more time than anyone thought we'd have. This place was waiting, waiting for love to save it. And you have, Sherlock. You and John, and Molly and Greg - and I saw Mycroft and Lady Smallwood yesterday, he's still not used to it, having someone look at him the way she does, but he's learning. And she's patient."

Sherlock leaned into her and whispered, "still, I'm sorry you never had your day, Grace."

Grace was silent for a moment then murmured, "we had so many good days, Sherlock, and you and John are giving them back to me." She straightened up and ruffled his hair. "And you never know, I may still have my day -"

"What?" Sherlock grinned up at her.

"Just never you mind, eat your breakfast."

"Grace..."

"Nope. I just have the feeling... don't want to jinx it."

"Howard is lovely, Grace."

"Yes, Sherlock. He is. Now eat - do you want to check the bees with me today?"

"You mean it?" Molly and Grace laughed as Sherlock ate faster than either of them had ever seen before. "Come on, Grace!"

Grace rolled her eyes gently at him. "Sherlock."

He looked down and noticed he was still in his pyjamas and robe. He finished his tea, then jumped up and kissed them both, before flying upstairs. "Don't go out without me!"

Molly grinned at Grace. "He loves you, very much."

Grace blushed and turned back towards the stove as Greg, John and Gertrude walked through the kitchen door.

"Oh, man - smells amazing," Greg sighed as he leaned down and kissed Molly.

"Mum - Sherlock?"

"Upstairs. He had breakfast already, he's going to help me check the bees."

John rolled his eyes, then laughed as he turned and saw Sherlock dressed in his bee suit, including the head covering and net. "And just how am I supposed to kiss you through that thing?"

"Oh, uhm - right." He lifted the hood and grinned down at John, then kissed him gently. "Grace?"

Grace sighed and looked over at them with a smile. "John - will you -" She handed him the spoon and disappeared into her bedroom for a couple of minutes, emerging in a matching outfit. "Come on, you, let's go see if the bees are awake."


	2. Chapter 2

"If we were ever to -" Mycroft began as he started to review the morning's emails over breakfast.

"If we were ever to... what?" Alicia laid her newspaper down and looked over at him.

"You know - uhm - get married..."

"Yessss?"

"Would you want it to be in a church... or -"

"Is this a purely hypothetical discussion, or is this something I should give serious thought to before I answer?"

Mycroft sighed and closed his laptop, then pushed away from the table and walked over to her.

"Myc. What - ?"

"I feel a bit like Henry trying to woo Katherine - you know how I feel about you, and you have led me to believe that you - I have the impression that we are, uhm, at the very least, compatible..."

"How do you feel about me, Myc?" Alicia asked him quietly.

"My heart beats faster when you walk into my office, when you leave, I feel as if I am less of a person. When you can tell I've had a bad day, you take my briefcase from me, then loosen my tie and make me step out of my shoes... I know I'm home. I - have never believed that I had a heart, Alicia. No, that's not quite right. I suppose - I never believed anyone would see that I have one, I didn't think anyone would ever get close enough to look. But, you - you always, since the day we met, you seemed to be able to glimpse into my soul, not that I believe I have one of those, but if I did... I love you, Alicia, whatever that means, I'm not quite sure I honestly know what that truly means... I watched you in Sussex, watching me - I never thought anyone, especially someone as brilliant, funny and stunning as you could ever find something of value in me..." Alicia shook her head as he sank to his knees in front of her.

"Myc -" she whispered.

"I had Anthea pick it up for me while we were gone, I did go to the jewelers and pick it out - I made a calculated estimate - and I considered..." he opened the russet coloured velvet box and offered it to her. She drew in a sharp breath as the band of emeralds sparkled at her. "I know, perhaps an emerald is not a traditional stone, but I saw this, and thought - I mean, I know, you probably -. 

"Stop talking, Myc. Just stop." She gazed down into his eyes and nodded. "Yes - you idiot... "

 

"She said yes!"

"Mycroft? Who said yes to what?" Sherlock yawned as he turned on the kettle.

"Alicia. I - uhm, asked her to marry me."

Sherlock sat down hard in his chair and stared at the phone for a long moment, before speaking. "You actually asked her?"

Mycroft rolled his eyes and sighed. "Yes... Well. Now that I think about it, I didn't actually - hmm... but I gave her a ring? And she said yes. So -"

Sherlock laughed. "Then you did one better than I did, Myc. No, that's -"

"What?" 

"I think it's great - really. I just never thought, I don't know - seems very - hmm, sentimental of you, is all." 

"We were hoping - that is, Alicia is very attached to the farm, and... "

"You may not invite Vladimir." Sherlock muttered as he got up to switch of the kettle. "Security may be a problem..."

"No. This would be a very small, very private affair. In a few months, to give her time to call it off once she thinks it through enough."

"I heard that!" Alicia yelled from the kitchen.

"Of course. Christmas, perhaps?"

Mycroft paused then yelled back at Alicia. "Christmas?"

She walked into his study, drying her hands. "But, you hate Christmas."

"It might give me a reason to begin to like it?" He grinned at her and she threw her towel at him.

"Christmas sounds perfect. Thank you, Sherlock."

"Congratulations to both of you, Myc." He ended the call and made a pot of tea, then stood at the window, and sighed as he watched the rain come down.

 

"Morning, love." John draped his arms around Sherlock's waist, and leaned into him.

"Mycroft's engaged," Sherlock mumbled, as he covered John's hands with his own.

"What?!"

"We are contagious, it seems... he 'asked' her this morning."

"Another Holmes 'non - proposal?' " John snickered.

"He actually went so far as to buy her a ring."

"Wow - must be serious, then."

"Arse," Sherlock snorted then squealed as John began to tickle him. "Noooooo.... unfair!"

John spun him in his arms and kissed him sweetly. "Is there tea?"

Sherlock nodded and pointed at the pot, then pulled John into another kiss. "Upstairs... please?"

John nodded, taking Sherlock's hand and leading him from the kitchen and back to bed.


	3. Chapter 3

From: jwatson@bliss.uk  
To: hwatson@hcwhome.co.uk

 

Harry -

It's been a wild couple of days here. Molly and Greg arrived on Monday, on Tuesday they got married. Mycroft arrived with Lady Smallwood,(who as of this morning are now engaged!) and the marriage license - it seems it helps to have friends in high, or low places as the case may be. Mum sat with Howard at the ceremony, they are very cozy these days...

 

John looked over at Sherlock who was sound asleep, curled up next to him and he couldn't help but smile.

 

Mum let Sherlock help her take care of the bees yesterday for the first time. I took photos, but they are covered head to toe in white bee suits, so they rather look like they belong in one of those disaster movies, where someone has unleashed a plague, know what I mean? Honestly, when I think I finally know him, he surprises me again. I've never seen him so patient and gentle - he watched her so carefully and was so calm, though I know he was beside himself - when they came inside, Mum took off her head covering and net and smiled at him, then kissed his cheek and nodded, then went to change out of her protective gear. He couldn't speak for a few minutes; and you know how often he is at a loss for words. He still hasn't been able to talk about it a day later.

It's been raining all morning, so we are having a quiet day. I need to start writing the book. There are times when I'm sitting with Z on his porch or having tea with Mum in the morning, I realise how little time we have left with them. I want to get this book made for them, so they can hold it in their hands. I know it's a morbid thought, but it's something I think about. Not all the time, but once in a while. But, mostly, I find I am just ridiculously grateful to have her with us. She has become a friend to both Sherlock and me, and she has been lovely with our friends as they are finding their way to us. It is funny how Bliss has become a sort of refuge for so many, but I'm not surprised. As Molly said yesterday, the farm has a bit of magic in it...

Oh, and you'll find a few snaps attached, some from the wedding, and a couple of Sherlock and Greg on the tractor, Sherlock let Greg drive Matilda - and let him wear the bee hat! And the last is a shot of Mum and Sherlock tending to the bees.

I hope your week is going well,  
Much love -  
John

 

From: hwatson@hcwhome.co.uk  
To: jwatson@bliss.uk

 

London seems quiet in comparison to the farm. I do know what you mean about time - if I sit still too long and think about things, it hits me a bit. Luckily we're keeping busy. I know - but it's a good busy. I am doing something important for people who need help, and it's hard sometimes, because there are cases where no one wins, no matter the outcome. You have no idea what a difference it makes to me to have you and Mum in my life again. It reminds me that even the most broken of families can find a way back together, even though it is rare. But, it does make a difference, John.

Molly and Greg look so happy, it was nice of you guys to do it for them, and Mum, with Howard, the way he looks at her. It's lovely. Sherlock looks lovely - are you two wearing the suits you wore for your wedding? You look brilliant - and Mum and Sherlock in the bee suits, you're right, they look very biohazard -y.

I think your Molly is right, there is something there - almost otherworldly, but honestly, I think it's just the two of you. The two of you carry a certain light with you, I don't know how else to explain it. And that light attracts others to you. Not sure if that makes any sense?

I hope we'll be able to come down soon, aiming for when the weather gets cooler and the apples are ready.

Much love kiddo,  
Harry

 

From: jwatson@bliss.uk  
To: hwatson@hcwhome.co.uk

 

I know what you do is important, Harry. And I am so proud of the work you do, I hope you know that. I cannot imagine how difficult it must be some days to watch families go through what we did. When we had dim sum that day, you called yourself a coward for leaving when you did, you have never been a coward, Harry. Not that day, not ever. Just know that you have a safe place to come to when you need it. I am here, no matter what, for you. Don't forget that.

I don't know - I do know that I feel lighter and more full than I ever have in my life, not sure if that is possible? I know that I have been changed in the short time we have been here, and I don't - I've never believed in things I can't see or touch, but there are times when I know there is something here that I can't explain. And I'm not sure I want to explain it.

Love you -  
J


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of angst, as we do occasionally - John has a nightmare, and tells Sherlock about Afghanistan for the first time. Just more from my bucket list.

John closed his laptop with a sigh and laid it aside. He glanced down at the man next to him, still sound asleep. It was nearly noon. He should get up and walk Gertrude - he heard Grace downstairs talking to her, the rattle of plates - Molly and Greg laughing. He gently lifted an overlong curl that had fallen over Sherlock's left eyebrow, and even in the soft grey light of the drizzly day, he could see auburn highlights in the dark strands. He wondered that he had never noticed before - you see, but you do not observe - Sherlock would have said once - he smiled and questioned if a place could so change a person. Of course it could. He closed his eyes and was suddenly drowning in memories of Afghanistan.

"John? John! Please - wake up, John."

He blinked and Sherlock was holding him carefully. John could feel the tension in his arms, and he lightly laid his fingers over Sherlock's chest. His heart rate had elevated, his breathing was uneven and damn - the look in Sherlock's eyes - he had seen it once before. John had frightened him again. "I'm sorry."

"John." Sherlock whispered as he laid his head carefully on John's shoulder and reached down to press his long fingers over his wrist. They were still for a long moment, as they listened to the world below them. John could hear Greg retelling one of their cases, one of the ridiculously simple variety that Greg would call them in on when he knew Sherlock had been without a case for a while. He took a breath and closed his eyes again.

"I'm fine." He muttered, then swore as his left hand gave lie to his words. He cleared his throat and got the words out somehow, "I've never told you about Afghanistan."

Sherlock kissed his shoulder then moved so he could take John into his arms again, holding him tightly as if he could make the memories different if he just held on tight enough. "No."

"I've never told anyone." He closed his eyes again, then began. "I was the oldest, on my second tour - I think I started going grey the day we deployed, The kids called me Doc, some of them called me Gramps until they realized I could outrun them - they stopped calling me that rather quickly. This time around, any foreigner was a target, even the medical units, they didn't care that we were trying to help them, at least, that's what we were supposed to be doing, by the time -" His hand went into spasm again and Sherlock kissed his forehead then held him tighter. "I no longer believed in what we were doing - I was just trying to get as many of us home in one piece - we were ambushed - I was able to get an SOS out - we were outgunned, but we - by the end there were ten of us left. I was patching up a guy, Paulie, he was our lucky guy, our lucky charm - he was 16, nearly 17, lied about his - age, he told them he had just turned 18 when he had enlisted, and he managed to get away with it, even with all the computers and records - he died a couple of days before his eighteenth birthday in my arms - damn. I had forgotten about him. I got hit just when we were about to be evacuated..." John opened his eyes and sat up, meeting Sherlock's eyes for the first time, then looked away and glared at his hands. "Do you remember - when you asked me what I would say if I had been murdered?"

"John - I -"

"No - it's fine - I said what I told you - and when I woke up a few weeks later, I had missed all the funerals - I stopped believing. In anything. Every day - I wished - I had no reason to keep fighting. I had no one, nothing - every night when I closed my eyes - I didn't want to wake up. But for some reason, I kept waking up each morning, I made myself eat, I would watch the ceiling. I still remember, there were 5,033 dots on it, I know because I kept recounting - never could explain the thirty - three. Eventually I was moved to rehab, and that was a different kind of hell altogether -" He looked over at Sherlock again and shook his head. "I'm sorry - I shouldn't - you don't deserve this."

Sherlock shook his head and reached out to take John's hand in his. "I want to be the one who listens, who hears you, John. You have - you -always tried to protect me from your pain, your nightmares. I knew, I always knew, John. I knew when they were bad - I wanted to help you, I sat outside your door and I listened, for the longest time, and then I started playing for you, those days when I knew it was going to be bad. You don't have to hide from me, John. I am strong enough to help you carry it, do you believe me?"

John gazed into the green eyes, so bright they nearly glowed at him and he nodded. "Yes. I believe you. The day I met you, I began to believe again. I believed there was a reason - a reason I made it home. To find you. To be here, with you."

Sherlock sat up and folded John into his arms, holding him as he sobbed in silence, and he somehow knew that it was the first time John had ever mourned for that day, for the men and boys he lost that day and for himself. He lowered them both back into the pillows and closed his eyes. He focused on John, on his silent hiccupping, as his whole body jumped against his, he trailed his fingers lightly over John's back until he felt his breathing calm into a hard tumble into sleep. He listened as the gentle rain turn into a thunderstorm, the kettle in the kitchen whistled sharply and Grace began to sing...

"...But there's one thing I know  
The blues they send to meet me  
Won't defeat me, it won't be long  
Till happiness  
Steps up to greet me

Raindrops keep falling on my head  
But that doesn't mean my eyes  
Will soon be turning red  
Crying's not for me 'cause,  
I'm never gonna stop the rain  
By complaining..." *

He felt himself begin to chuckle softly, even as tears cascaded down his cheeks. "One day, it won't be like this, John - one day, I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * 'Raindrops Keep Fallin' On My Head,' Burt Bacharach, Hal David


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a bit of fluff...

"The raindrops song?" Sherlock asked Grace when John, Molly and Greg had taken Gertrude for her after dinner walk and they were washing up.

"Raindrops?" Grace glanced over at him curiously.

"John sings it sometimes, in the shower, usually means he's content, and I heard you, this afternoon, when we were upstairs."

"I didn't even realise -" Grace whispered. "I would sing it to him when he was tiny, when I would give him a bath, when I washed his hair, and then later, when he was older, I'd sing it when it was raining at bedtime - he remembers still?"

Sherlock nodded. "As long as I've known him. I don't think you know how much you gave him, Grace. I think you believe you let him down. You didn't. It may sound funny, perhaps a bit selfish - but you gave me the only person who could ever love me, ever truly know me. At the same time, I think I'm the only person who -"

Grace turned and suddenly pulled him into a hug; her strength nearly knocked him over. "I know, Sherlock. The first time I read his blog, I knew he, I knew you - the two of you. I knew I didn't have to worry anymore. Of course I did, but, I always knew. It's easy to say that now, after everything that the two of you had to go through to get here, but I knew you were the only one who could love him as fiercely as he needed."

"I do, Grace. With everything I have." Sherlock held her tightly for a moment then pulled back and shook his head. "Everything."

Grace nodded and looked him over. "You've been through the wars today - haven't you?"

Sherlock sighed. "Close enough, but he's worth it, Grace." He fell into a chair and closed his eyes.

"Tea?"

Sherlock looked at her and laughed out loud. "Yes, please, Mum...biscuits, too?"

She grinned at him and ruffled his hair. "Biscuits too."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and a bit more fluff...

"Mornin' Z."

"Doc." Z gave him a quick once over and nodded him over to the chair next to him. "Your DI looks better than you this morning. Marriage suits him."

John sighed and leaned back into chair. "I told Sherlock about Afghanistan, yesterday."

Z nodded but said nothing.

"He's been perfect. He's just as he's always been."

"Problem?" Z turned and watched his nephew for a moment.

"I had never told anyone - anything about it before. I wasn't sure -" John shrugged and closed his eyes.

"How do you feel about him knowing?"

"I don't know, I didn't want him to have to - it's something I've dealt with on my own for so long -"

"That's not true."

"Hmm?"

"He has dealt with your nightmares, the times when you're moody and you couldn't tell him why - he probably thought it was something he had done. You don't knowingly - we think if we don't tell people about it, it won't touch them. Like your DI when he got here, he had you all worried, you even thought you knew why he was having a hard time, but until he shared a bit of it, let some of it go, understood that he didn't have to do it by himself, it was hard on all of you that he was in pain. Sherlock has carried your pain around with him, now he can name some of it and help you both let it go."

John was silent for a moment, then swore to himself. "I'm an idiot."

"Well, yes, my boy - it takes many more decades to become as wise as I am." He winked at him and stood up. "Time fer tea."

John got to his feet and leaned into the older man. "Thanks, Z."

Z wrapped his arms around him and whispered, "proud of you, John." Then cleared his throat and let him go. "Glady's made those sandwiches you are so fond of. If we hurry, your other half might save you one."

 

"I'm sorry." 

"Hmm. What for?" Sherlock murmured as they laid side by side gazing up at the clear night sky.

"I should have told you before."

Sherlock reached for his hand and sighed as he felt John's fingers slid into his. "You told me when you needed to, when you were ready to, and when I was ready to listen. I was afraid, when we met, that you would - I don't know, disappear on me, just leave one day - I didn't want to know - I wasn't prepared to care for you, for all of you - whatever that meant. I knew you had your 'ghosts' as Z calls them, but I was afraid to ask, in case it spooked you. You had your own questions, which I wasn't ready to answer. And then, all hell broke loose, and it took a long time before you could trust me again, which I deserved, and again, I didn't want to - I honestly didn't want you to feel like you - I didn't want you to be with me because you pitied me, or felt as if you owed me something. I never intended you to know what happened when I was away - if - Mary hadn't - been who she was - you never would have known, and we wouldn't be here, now. Together. I'm not sure what that says about the universe, but it is what it is, John."

"Damn! Did you see it?" John whispered.

"What?" Sherlock opened his eyes and searched the darkness.

"A shooting star."

"Did you make a wish, John?" 

"I didn't need to. I don't have a single thing to wish for any longer."

"Ridiculous man."

"Uhmhmm."

 

From: jwatson@bliss.uk  
To: hwatson@hcwhome.co.uk

 

After that last email I sent you - I fell asleep and had a nightmare about my time in Afghanistan. And I finally told Sherlock about my last tour, and the day I nearly died. It just happened, and I can't explain it, it's as if he finally knows I trust him, that I trust that he won't leave me. I know the nightmares aren't over yet, perhaps they are just a part of me now, but I know he will be there when they happen. I just know he will be here, Harry. For me. I just - it still amazes me sometimes. That out of everyone on the planet, he ended up choosing me.

 

Sherlock took the laptop away from him and shook his head. "I will always, always choose you. Above anything and anyone else. You - without you, my world was dark - I didn't even know how dark it was until the day we met. You aren't just a conductor of light, John, you are my light."

John rolled his eyes at him, then kissed him as he grabbed his laptop back. "Now, who is being ridiculous, love?"

 

And I keep choosing him, as if I have done this, we have done this over and over again. I hope you had a good day, and we hope to see you soon.

Love, John.

 

Harry blinked at her screen and lightly pressed her fingers over the words, sitting in the dark in silence until Clara turned on the light. "Harry?"

"Hmm. Yeah?"

"You okay, love? Come to bed, it's late."

"Yeah, sorry -"

"John okay?"

"Yeah, Clara, I think he's finally going to be okay."


End file.
